


Kings Cross

by missdibley



Series: Panic: A Series of One-Shots Set in London (except for the one set in Edinburgh) [4]
Category: Suburban Shootout, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Wallander (UK TV), Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Kings Cross, London, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus and Halla's daughter Maggy Martinsson makes a new friend whilst waiting in line with her brother at Kings Cross station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings Cross

**Maggy**

“We’re going to be on this line forever,” I muttered to myself.

“What?” Håkan was peering up at me, having just taken his head out of a battered copy of “Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone”. “What was that?”

“Nothing, Hake. It’s nothing.” I grinned. “Uh oh, what’s this? What’s this wind blowing through your hair and making it look craaaaazy?!” I messed up his bangs and he pretended to swat at my hands, though I could tell from his smile that he didn’t mind it. Hake’s a good kid, even if he is a goober most of the time. But then, I figured, most 9 year olds are goobers anyway, especially if they’re your baby brother who is way into Harry Potter.

Mom and Dad were sorting out our tickets to Edinburgh so I got to hang with Hake while we stood in line to have his picture taken in front of the Platform 9 ¾ wall at Kings Cross. I still wasn’t sure why we were even going to Scotland in the first place, as we usually spent a week in London with Aunt Helen and Uncle Oakley and their kids before heading back to Chicago from Sweden.

We went to Sweden every year to see farmor and farfar for Midsommar. I cringed at the memory of my mother who, as a woman in her 50’s, probably has no business wearing flower crowns even if they are traditional for the holiday. But then I remembered the way my father looked at her whenever she’d put hers on, and how they’d go for long walks in the evening, when it was still light out, arms wrapped around each other. I would never tell them this, but it makes me feel good whenever I see them holding hands or touching like that.

“Maggy?” Hake sounded serious, as he always did. “Will you please tell me who dies in the book?”

“No!” I shook my head. “You have to finish it. And why are you obsessed with who dies in the books anyway?”

“But you’re saying there are going to be deaths, right?”

“Well, yeah. But, like, not a lot.” I bit my lip. “Not at first.”

Hake nodded. “I just wanted to know who I shouldn’t get attached to.”

I got down on my knees to look him in the eyes. When he tried to squirm away, I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Hake? What’s going on?”

He looked down at his shoes, avoiding my gaze, but I could still hear him when he replied. “I heard Mom and Dad talking to farfar and farmor about their house, about what happens to it they, you know…”

I took his hands in mine and squeezed them. “Well, they’re not going to be around forever. They’re getting up there in age and all. You know that right?”

Tears filled Hake’s eyes and I pulled him in a for a hug. “I know,” he whispered into my ear. He hiccuped. “But I don’t want to have to miss them.”

“Oh Hake,” I sighed. “We’re gonna miss them. We’re gonna miss them because we love them so much, just like they love us. But we’ll miss them together, okay goober?”

When he nodded, I stood up and rooted around in my bag for a tissue to give him. Hake wiped his nose then went back to his book, slipping his arm around my waist and tilting his head against my side.

**Bill**

“Bill! Bill! Look at meeeeee.” Startled, I looked down at Jewel, who stood in front of me at Kings Cross. Even if she wasn’t standing so close to me, I know I’d hear her shrieking over the crowds here. I could hear it anywhere.

“Aren’t you going to miss me, sweetie?” she pleaded.

“It’s Edinburgh, not the end of the world, Jewel.” I thought I sounded reassuring, but I guess I was wrong as her bottom lip started to quiver. I kissed her forehead, which seemed to mollify her.

Jewel threw her arms around my neck and hung off me. “It’s going to be freezing up there. Why go all the way up to damp old Scotland when you can come to Mallorca with me?”

“As much as I’d love to spend this summer in Spain following you around so I can rub sun cream on your back, this internship at the National Museum of Scotland was too good to pass up.”

“But it’s a month! What if you forget all about me?”

I chuckled. “Forget about you, the prettiest girl in Little Stempington? Impossible.”

Jewel seemed satisfied with this answer. “Alright but you have to answer the phone whenever I call, okay? And send me sexy pictures, darling!” She stood up on tiptoe and kissed me, which felt like she was trying to floss my teeth with her tongue. I pulled away from her slowly.

“I’ll miss you,” I whispered, and I was pretty sure I meant it.

“Miss you too, babes.” Her phone chirped and she examined it, frowning at the display. “Shit. That’s Mum. I’ve got to get going. Remember - don’t forget to CALL ME.” Jewel blew me a kiss as she ran off. I breathed a sigh of relief as she did.

It was flattering, don’t get me wrong, for somebody as exciting as Jewel Diamond to be sleeping with me. But it’s exhausting. She’s insatiable, and not just when it comes to sex (not that we’ve done it that much). She always has to know what I’m doing, who I’m with, what I’m eating all the time. Jewel makes her friends text her if they see me out by myself or with my mates or even my parents, anybody who isn’t her. And that’s only when she herself isn’t calling, texting, Skyping, snapchatting and sometimes just emailing me to make sure I’m there and paying attention. I don’t remember her being so needy before but with us going our separate ways in the fall, her to beauty college and me on my gap year before uni, I guess she’s feeling anxious about us.

I became aware of her lip gloss, sticky and too sweet on my mouth where she had kissed me. I checked my pockets and my rucksack but I had nothing to wipe it off. I was about to head to the Boots to buy a packet when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

“Need a tissue? Unless, of course, you actually want glitter lip gloss smeared all over your face like that.”

I turned around to find a girl looking up at me, an amused smirk on her face. Next to her was a boy who had his nose stuck in Harry Potter. The two of them must have been siblings, as they both had the same high, freckled cheekbones, large dark eyes, and curly hair. But where the boy seemed gangly and tall for his age, with a long skinny nose poking out from under a pair of glasses, the girl looked smaller and softer even though she was clearly the older of the two and taller than her brother. Her snub nose made her look mischievous, and really, really fucking adorable.

“Here.” She pressed the tissue into my hand, and her smirk relaxed into a tiny smile. “Unless you needed me to wipe it off for you?”

I shook my head. “N-no, I can get it. Thanks.” I looked at the clean tissue sitting in my palm. My palm which was getting sweatier the longer I stood there looking at this cute girl.

**Maggy**

“Was that your girlfriend?” When I asked the cute boy this, he got all red in the face. His blue eyes were somehow brighter, and his curls springier after he ran his hand through them. When he slowly nodded, I just laughed at him. “Are you sure?”

“Erm, yeah. She is.”

“Well, she’s very pretty. She doesn’t really need all that gloss.”

“She likes it.” He furrowed his eyebrows at me, which reminded me of my father whenever he was grilling me about something. But Dad wears his blond hair, which is getting lighter and whiter every year, close cropped except on the top where there are a few curls that my mother likes to run her fingers through when she sits in his lap. The boy’s hair was longer, and I wished I was tall enough to brush it out of his eyes.

“Well, as long as she likes it…” And then I didn’t know what to say. This cute boy hadn’t yet given me the brush-off, and my interactions with boys usually stopped after I said something dumb like “My favorite smell in the world right now is fried chicken.”

“Are you on your way to Hogwarts?” The boy nodded at my brother, who was still reading his book. Great, I thought. Now he’ll probably realize that I’m super lame and that Håkan is cooler than I am.

“I wish!” Hake piped up. “We just got our picture done at over at the wall, the one that says Platform 9 ¾. Do you like Harry Potter too?” This dude was 17 at least, I thought. There’s no way…

He nodded enthusiastically. “I love it all. Big fan. Not as crazy as I used to be, but I still have a full set of books signed by JK Rowling.”

At the mention of his favorite author’s name, Håkan’s eyes practically popped out of his head. “REALLY? CAN I SEE THEM?”

The cute boy laughed. “Well, I don’t have them with me. They’re at home in Little Stempington.”

**Bill**

“Little Stempington?” The pretty girl arched an eyebrow at me. “Where or what is a Little Stempington?”

“It’s a village, just outside London. My dad’s a cop there.” I sounded a little more defensive than I meant to, but I’d grown to love Little Stempington since moving there a few years ago.

“Really?” She shook her head and laughed. “Dad’s gonna love this.”

“What am I going to love?” I turned around to find a tall, stern-looking man glaring at me. His mouth was set in a thin line as he looked from me to the girl and then back to me.

“Oh Dad, this is…” She looked up at me. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Bill.” I stuck my hand out. “Bill Hazeldine.”

Before the scary father could reply, the girl laughed. “‘Bill. Bill Hazeldine.’" She pretended to sound serious when she parroted me. "Well, I’m Maggy. Maggy Martinsson. And this is my father, Magnus. Magnus Martinsson.” She pointed at the boy. “And this goober is my brother Håkan. Håkan Martinsson.”

“Maggy, stop making fun of this young man.” I turned at the sound of a warm, sweet voice, and found a woman who was I guessed to be her mother. Same hair, same eyes, same freckles but with a button nose. “Hello, I'm Halla Roque. I’m sorry my oldest child is so cheeky. She knows better than to tease handsome strangers.” She elbowed Maggy before taking her husband’s arm.

When she said “handsome strangers” I don’t know who blushed more, me or Maggy.

“Ahem. So what am I loving again?” Scary Dad’s eyes were still on me.

“Bill said his dad is a cop. Just like you were, Dad.”

At this, Scary Dad’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Where did you say you were from?”

“Little Stempington, sir.”

“Stempington? You’re Jeremy Hazeldine’s boy?”

“You know my dad?”

Scary Dad nodded. “Yes.”

“How?”

“That’s really none of your concern, son.” He frowned at me, then at the tickets in his hand. “Okay, guys, here are your tickets. Maggy, please say goodbye to your…” He frowned at me. “Bill. Hmph. We should be going.” Scary Dad turned around and left, Håkan trailing behind him. Sweet Mom threw me a look that seemed to say I’m sorry my husband is so scary before she joined her husband, but maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.

**Maggy**

“What are you doing with that?” I looked up at Bill’s face as he scooped up my bag.

“Helping you,” he said softly. “D’you mind?”

I shook my head and waited for him to get a better grip on my duffel and his own rucksack before I started walking to the platform with him beside me.

“Do you know where you’re going?” He peered at some signs a few hundred feet away, and I couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked when he squinted.

“Yeah. Platform 0, I think. The train to…”

“Edinburgh,” he interrupted, a big smile on his face. “I think I’m on the same one.”

“Really?” I couldn’t keep the big cheesy grin off my face. “What are you heading up there for?”

“Internship at the National Museum of Scotland.”

“Does that mean you’re a genius?”

Bill shook his head, then smiled. “I think it means I’m a nerd whose idea of a summer well-spent is labeling bird skeletons in a dim basement for no pay.”

I had to laugh. “I think that sounds fun. Though your…”

“Girlfriend,” he said, looking a bit sheepish.

“Right,” I said. “Your girlfriend…” I tried not to sound too disappointed.

**Bill**

I was sad to see Maggy’s face fall a little when I said the g-word.

“Yeah, your girlfriend didn’t seem too pleased about it.”

I shrugged. “She’s always like that. Never satisfied, always needing more. I feel like sometimes I’m not enough for her.”

“That can’t be the case. I can’t imagine that to be true.” Maggy gave me a tentative smile, and I returned it. She was awfully pretty when she smiled like that.

Maggy looked at her ticket, examining it closely. “This way. Carriage B, seat 4. I think that’s the quiet car.” She frowned. “Which is kind of a bummer because I love eavesdropping on people’s conversations.”

I snorted. “That’s awfully nosy of you.”

She snorted right back. “Whatever. If people don’t want to be eavesdropped on, then they need to learn to speak softly. And maybe not say such terrible things for me to judge.”

“You’re awful, Maggy.”

She grinned. “If you only knew.”

We came to a stop outside carriage B, which had a sign reading “Quiet Car” next to the entrance.

“Well, this is me.” She looked up at me. “Wait, where’s your ticket?”

“Oh, right!” I dug my phone out of my pocket. “Mine’s electronic, saved in the rail company app. Mum bought my ticket, so I don’t know…” I grinned when I found my pass, and showed it to Maggy. She looked up at me and smiled.

**Magnus**

“You don’t like that boy, do you?” I could hear the teasing in Halla’s voice as we settled into our seats in the quiet car. We hadn’t yet left so other passengers were still chatting, saying goodbye to friends and family, or asking the porters for assistance getting their bags on the overhead luggage racks.

I set down my book and frowned at her. “He looked like an alley cat sniffing around our daughter.”

Halla rolled her eyes. “Please. He looked like a Boy Scout.”

“And you should know it’s the ones that look like Boy Scouts are the ones you should watch out for!”

Halla laughed at me. “Oh, that’s right! Because that was totally you when you were his age!” She cackled then went back to typing on her laptop. “Of course you’d recognize one of your own, you old tomcat.”

“I was never like that! I would never approach a strange girl like that…”

Halla laughed again. “Except that you totally did. When you met ME. ‘Oooh, how do I eat this hot dog? I don’t know what to do! Help me, kind lady! I don’t know how mustard works!’” Halla kissed me. “And now we have two lovely children who, I assure you, can take care of themselves because their wonderful former Boy Scout former detective current consultant and expert on trafficking and organized crime father made sure of it.”

When I frowned at her, Halla leaned over and kissed me again, this time on the tip of my nose.

“Calm down, Papa. Maggy and Håkan are safe on this train with us, just a few rows down, and Bill is, I am sure, back at Kings Cross or on a train going in the opposite direction of where we’re going now.” Halla went back to her typing, leaving me to sit and think. Feeling uneasy, I got up to check on the children.

Five rows ahead of us, I found Håkan fast asleep in a window seat, his head in Maggy’s lap. Across from Maggy sat Bill, who at least had the decency to look sheepish when I saw him. He held up his phone so I could inspect his ticket. The seat he occupied across from my only daughter was, in fact, his. And from what I could tell, the train was full.

Before I could say anything, I felt a tap on my shoulder and found my wife looking at me, trying not to laugh. Halla took my hand and yanked me back to my seat where I could do little more than stew on the four hour trip to Edinburgh, with her holding my hand and snuggling next to me so eventually I calmed down just a very little bit.

**Bill**

We couldn’t talk, and Maggy didn’t want to wake Håkan so we could head to the snackbar to chat. So we texted the whole way. Or we did once we figured how she could get messages on her American phone from my English one.

We started small, like where did she go to school, and did I have siblings. What kind of music did we listen to, and what was the last movie we saw. I remembered that when I said I was doing a gap year, she said I should visit her in Chicago. I agreed, but only as long as she could guarantee my safety in the presence of her father.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember half the things we wrote to each other. I’d have to go back and check the texts for every detail. What I do remember is the way her eyes would light up when she’d get a text from me. The way she’d giggle at an answer, and then bite her lip as she typed a response. The way she would twirl a lock of hair around her finger as she watched me read her texts (which I do remember as being longer and funnier than mine). She got a look of concern on her face whenever I got a text or a call from Jewel. I muted them at first, then eventually replied to one, saying “Reception bad talk 2nite?” When I sent that text, I showed my phone to Maggy, who looked up at me questioningly. Then her eyes got really big and she pointed at the screen. I turned my phone around so I could read it.

> _If you don’t pick up the phone right this very minute, I’m never speaking to you again, Bill Hazeldine._

I stared at the screen, then up at Maggy. She avoided my gaze, looking instead at her brother still asleep in her lap. I reached out and took her hand in mine. And all at once I felt a warmth in the pit of my stomach that felt solid and good, and felt even better when she looked in my eyes.

> _Sorry I can’t pick up the phone now. Really sorry. Have a good summer._

I sent it then showed it to Maggy. She smiled, if a bit hesitantly, so I leaned across the aisle, ran my hand along her cheek, and pressed my lips gently, sweetly, to hers.


End file.
